The song “I’ll Be Home for Christmas” may be a beautiful tune, but it’s a tear-jerker when you’re 1,000 miles from family.
The year 1968 was like that for me. I was at Sheppard Air Force Base in Texas, for advanced training, a long way from Jacksonville, Fla.
My parents and my brother would be having Christmas without me, I figured. But I was wrong.
By the time I got home in mid-January I was surprised to see the Christmas tree was still standing tall over a bunch of presents.
“Christmas doesn’t have to be celebrated on the 25th,” my mother said.
The greatest gift of all, of course, was the birth of our savior, Jesus Christ. But family, another gift from God, is right up there, too.
Merry Christmas.